25 Kisses
by legheads-lament
Summary: A collection of 25 prompted kisses, will be drabbles primarily from Jefferson's pov. MAD QUEEN.
1. Prompt List and Author's Notes

Because there's never enough MQ in the world — over the course of the next, I don't really know how long just as long as it takes, I'm going to write an MQ drabble for every one of these;

A kiss on the…

Lips √  
Palms  
Back of the hand √  
Cheeks  
Inner elbow  
Forehead √  
Nose  
Eyelids  
Thighs √  
Jaw √  
Knees √  
Old scars √  
Behind the ear √  
Nape of the neck √  
Any bruises √  
Collarbone  
Shoulders  
Wrists  
A wound  
Chest √  
Stomach √  
Hips √  
Every birthmark √  
Spine √  
Fingertips

* * *

These will be told in verses that I use on my Jefferson RP, which is different from my normal fic voice. Third person but primarily from Jefferson's side. I will note which verse each kiss is in so they make sense in context. Read about the verses on my tumblr account themagnificenthatter


	2. 1 Only Fools Rush In

Prompt: A kiss on the; back of the hand (#1/25)  
Setting: Fairytale Land

He knew she wouldn't be happy — or perhaps it was that she would be, and that was far worse an emotion to display, when this Hatter sauntered in to the King's ball, not bothering to have warned her that he'd somehow procured an invite.

Jefferson enjoyed finding little ways, finding big ways, really _any_ way, to set the Queen's cheeks to flushing pink, her heart to racing nervously, her eyes to finding his in a flitting motion — saying all the things she knew she couldn't speak. Not, at least, until she was somewhere more private with him. And then he could expect quite a royal scolding. One he would bite the insides of his cheeks to keep from mocking, although his eyes would give it away. And she would be less than regal then, scowling up at him as he couldn't help smirking down at her. She just made it so easy.

As he made his way around the party, he made sure not to let his gaze linger too long on the nearly entirely ignored Queen. Every so often he allowed himself a glimpse, and found her trying to give him the same treatment. Large eyes begging him not to cause any trouble.

But trouble was practically his second name.

He approached the King — audacious and charming as always, selling himself as someone who no matter what the King could possibly need, he was the man to get it. For a man who proclaimed to need nothing, he seemed rather interested in the prospect of Jefferson's services being so readily available to him. And in the ultimate move of boldness then, he asked to be introduced to his Queen.

His eyes found hers as the King lamely introduced her. _My wife, Regina_. If only he knew. She may have been his wife but she was not his. Not from where Jefferson was standing. He gave a respectful bow, extending his hand to her — and when he clasped hers it was noticeable how it went from shaking to calm within his grasp, and the smile that she offered him was genuine, even amidst her uneasiness.

It was a fool's move. But Jefferson was just that. A fool for coming here, a fool for staying, a fool for thinking he could greet her right in front of her husband, without his having a clue of how entirely familiar with her he really was.

Her smile melted just discernibly, as his lips pressed firmly against her hand, and the words left his lips lowly, just as he pulled away.

"_Wonderful to meet you, your majesty._"


	3. 2 Enjoying the View

Prompt: A kiss on the; knees (#2/25)  
Setting: Storybrooke

It wasn't often that they actually found their way to a bedroom still clothed or not already wrapped around one other. But when they entered her room, her first and him a few paces behind, there was a calmness, an air of patience he almost forgot he still possessed.

He watched as she shrugged out of her jacket. And then her heels, making her drop half a foot in height — but he held back the small chuckle that rose into his throat, instead just taking in the scene and filing it away once again as one of his favorite things about her.

A woman who could transform into such a towering and, to some, terrifying presence — who then went home, went home to him more often than not, where he was the towering presence then, as he had always been. Towering and persuasive and the little queen may have grown up in to some big bad evil, but she was still little to him. And he never seemed to grow out of liking how small and striking a package she was. Had always been.

What had been a long and tedious day, was now expected to turn into a long and much less tedious night, but it seemed to take little precedence as Jefferson still stood and watched as Regina made her way onto the bed, laying down on her back with her legs just bent enough so her heals pressed into the sheets. Not at all meant to be a pose and yet it enticed him as one all the same.

She seemed lost in her thoughts almost as much as he was lost in her, as only then did she turn her head at him, questioning without actually voicing it. He made his way over to her, towering over the foot of the bed, before leaning down to grasp her ankles, thumbs brushing for a moment before he pushed forward until her knees bent fully, and he could kneel with a leg on either side of hers, sitting back on his haunches just in front of her.

His arms moved to encircle her bent legs, and he rested his chin in the space between her knees. Using the time to stare down at her, the barricade of her legs keeping him from rushing past the moment, allowing him to simply study her across the distance, until finally she made to speak.

"_What are you doing?_"

There was part of a laugh in her voice, but it was clouded by the uncertainty he knew to still expect. Uncertainty to trust him, to really let him in. He hugged her legs tighter, his eyes turning to scrutinize for a moment, deciding whether or not to to tell her either way. She never seemed to believe the words he gave her. But was there really any point in no longer trying?

He lifted his chin from its resting place, clearing his throat once. His arms stayed around her, keeping himself close and her with the slowly more perplexed expression displayed across her features. When he finally responded it began with a warm hum of a laugh, and he turned his head to press a kiss to one of her knees.

"_I, am enjoying the view._"

Pressing a kiss to other knee, and then lingering there, his lips just brushed her as he continued.

"_Because it is rare you sit still long enough to let me._"


	4. 3 Mirror, Mirror

Prompt: A kiss on the; nape of the neck (#3/25)  
Setting: Fairytale Land, MQVerse

If she had any idea, a single inkling to what she did to him, just by sitting at her vanity, penning away some noteworthy moment, some unexpressed wish or unspoken fear — pouring into her diary the things she thought she had no one else to tell — looking every inch the queen she'd come to be. Regal, and beautiful, both effortlessly so. If she knew, well, if she knew Jefferson was certain he would be no match for her, were she to choose to wield it against him.

She didn't seem to notice him as he watched her, and that made it all the more a moment not to let pass unappreciated. Her eyes were cast downward, painted silver, with long black lashes obscuring her view of him in the mirror, as he stood not far behind her. He kept his hands clasped behind his back, as he simply waited and watched for her to finish.

As she scrawled, his eyes began to trail away from the reflection and onto Regina herself. Her hair was piled atop her head, an intricately woven work of art, with an unworthy crown sunk in to the front of it. From the back he could see the faint wisps of dark hair that laid against her neck — a stark contrast to the sun-kissed skin. And he couldn't ignore the sudden urge to lay his lips there, even though his urge was then swiftly interrupted.

"_Are you planning on watching me all night or will you be saying hello at some point as well?_"

She didn't even look up when she spoke, even when his eyes shot straight back to her reflection and a soft laugh could be heard as he stepped closer.

_"I didn't want to interrupt you._"

"_Mmm._" She glanced up with a smirk pulling at her lips and dancing in her eyes, before looking back down at the diary as if she lost all interest in him.

He couldn't blame her for not believing him. But he couldn't really blame himself either. And who would? Years before he had been foolish, went after her for all the wrong reasons, all the self-serving reasons, ones to tout on about — how he bedded a queen, made her trust him, made her betray all that she'd admittedly never hold dear but were the opposite true, it still wouldn't have mattered to him. Along the way though, she had begun to matter. The unfairness of her life, the unfairness of her marriage, the altogether un-fairest child who made her miserable day in and day out — Jefferson knew he could do little to truly make her life any better. But that did little to stop him from trying.

What were once stolen moments, short and frantic kisses when she should have been learning magic, when she should have been at the stables, when she should have been anywhere that wasn't with him — that was where he made sure she would be. Stolen moments gave way to stolen days, and stolen nights, stolen until they were his very right. And so had those nights stretched on through years. He still had his duties, and she still had hers, but when they were left to make the choices themselves, the decision was really no decision at all. It was natural. Inevitable. It was all that it should have been, if they were ever truly able to belong to the other.

Belonging is really an opinion more than it is evidenced by fact, or matrimony. Just because she was not his wife, did not mean that she belonged to her husband. Belonging is about choice, about wanting to be someone's, about wanting them to be yours. Regina, in every sense of the word, belonged to Jefferson, just as he did, to her.

"_I missed you._" He said, as he leaned to rest his hands on the vanity, arms on either side her.

"_And I, you._" She still didn't look up, stayed buried in her writing although he could just discern how her penmanship had begun to stray from its usually perfectly executed flicks and flourishes.

"_I'm fairly certain I missed you more."_ He leaned down closer so his breath just tickled against her ear, causing her quill to stall entirely.

"_Is that so?_"

"_Without question._"

The smile she tried to fight as she looked up just enough to catch his eyes in the mirror made him certain — if he wasn't already before — that he had missed her ten times what she had him.

"_Do you want me to tell you, or should I just show you how much so?_"

As he stayed so close to her, the familiar bouquet that was so very Regina — filled him up and pulled him in, as he let his lips drop just to the crook in her shoulder, before she even had a chance to respond, beginning to trail back and around to the spot he'd been so keen on tending to just moments before.

He couldn't look at her anymore, but he could feel her reaction. The ever so slight shudder that escaped her when he pressed one kiss, and then two, dropping them not an inch apart as he drew a precise line down the top few vertebrae that were exposed to him. A hum left her as he pressed a third, had her dropping her head down just a touch, a wordless request for more.

Yes it was without any question that he had missed her, far more than his words were equipped to express.


	5. 4 That Boy Is a Monster

Prompt: A kiss on; any bruises (#4/25)  
Setting: Fairytale Land, DarkVerse

He'd marked her. Fingers gripping so tight that they bruised the soft flesh beneath. Leaving purple splotches littering her golden skin.

He was rough, possessive; every sound that came out of her only encouraged he be moreso. And the beast within had listened — obliged her until he felt their consensual release.

But it wasn't until morning poured in, and cast a glow that illuminated her now sullied skin, that he realized the severity of his affections had grown from strong to harmful — and the darkened heart in his chest felt a succession of pangs for what he did.

And yet for all his marring her, the woman that awoke in his arms had simply pulled closer to him, whispering a sleepy 'good morning' as if he were no different at all. But he was different. Months with this power coursing inside him had to begun to take their toll. Allowing less and less of the man before to still bleed through. And when the needs were carnal, even less so.

He shifted uncomfortably to get out of her grasp, causing her eyes to open — entirely questioning, almost hurt by the move.

"_What are you doing?"_ She asked as she sat up on an elbow and pulled the sheet up higher as she did so.

"_I hurt you."_ The change in his voice had become so familiar, but now he could hear yet again how much he had been altered from the man he'd once been. He had done this for the very purpose of her not being hurt. And now it was he who was doing the hurting.

She glanced down at herself, noting the marks that had appeared on her forearm and wrist and looked back up at him with a shake of her head.

"_Jefferson, I'm fine,_"

He snatched the sheet when she spoke, causing her eyes to go a bit wide but she tried to stomp down her fear, he could see. She feared him. Maybe she should.

"_There are more._" He ground out, pulling the sheet down to expose her, slowly revealing all he had done. Aside from the marks on her neck that she wouldn't be able to see, there were impressions on her ribs, waist, and hips. Compression bruising from how hard he'd held on to her.

The marks appeared again down on her thighs. Angry looking bites to the inside, and what was left by harshly clenching fingers to the out. He was a monster and she his prey, and yet the way she still looked at him spoke of something else.

"_And?_"

"_And — I did this Regina. You are the only good thing I have and I-_"

She sat up abruptly, a hand each going to the side of his face as she quieted him with a kiss.

Each time he kissed her, or she him, he felt the darkness — the power begin to subside, pulling the man back out of the monster, quieting more than just his lips. She kissed him tenderly, deeply, and pulled him back down with her — only breaking the kiss once their lungs demanded of air. And yet for all her pleasant distracting, he couldn't let go of all he'd seen.

"_I hurt you-_"

"_You loved me._"

She answered so simply. And part of him felt gratified that she saw it as such. The part that did the hurting. The part that longed to do more.

But for the moment that part would not have its wishes met, as he dropped a tender kiss of his own to her lips, finding words would do little to aid in his amends. His actions would just have to do the speaking for him.

From her lips he descended downward, already feeling her hum and relax as he brushed across the marks at her throat, which disappeared one after the other. His hands ghosted softly along her torso, healing any wounds beneath the skin. It was a far cry from how he'd touched her just hours before, and as he skimmed his way down her chest and abdomen he could feel her press up into him, longing for more pressure, that he would not give.

No on this morning he would not treat her so roughly, he would love her — really love her, as he did as a man.

He pressed a lingering kiss to each spot under her breasts, watching as the skin returned to its normal hue. He may have become a monster, and she may have all too willingly accepted it, but he still had the means to be gentle, affectionate, and she was the only thing that could keep him that way.


	6. 5 Give and Take

Prompt: A kiss on the; spine (#5/25)  
Setting: Storybrooke

She stood in front of her vanity mirror, with him close behind. Pressing her forward against the edge of the tabletop, as a hand made its way to her zipper.

What had been a night of ease and actual conversation, something they were slowly becoming more capable of, although it still did little to lessen the amount of times they wound up like this.

He pulled on the fastener until it glided down to the base of her back, while the other hand wound around her waist, bringing her closer still. And while his intentions were no longer to simply sleep with her and be done with it, they still couldn't end a night on just conversation. Still couldn't end a night on just a single kiss.

He could have begun moving them to a more fitting location, but the call of the posture and the mirror seemed too much to stray away from. From here he could not only give her little to do in the way of retaliation or grabbing for control, he could watch as his every touch slowly overwhelmed her, from the impeccable positioning he had put them in.

He pushed the dress down off her arms, abandoning her waist to rid her of it entirely. It puddled on the floor at their feet, leaving her in only lingerie — the architecture of which gave him much more to see and touch, and yet for the moment his focus was narrowed, just to the line down her back. As if every vertebrae was begging of his attention. And that was quite a common reason, quite a common excuse, for every part of her seemed to beg for him, at least so it seemed from where he stood.

He kept her pinned; the familiar hand winding around her front yet again, holding her where he wanted her, bringing her lower half backward so it pressed into his as he urged her to bend forward, until she had to hold herself up with her hands. He brushed her hair off to the side of neck, exposing the top few notches in her spine. Catching her eyes in the mirror he found them already slightly heavy, yet still mischievous, as she then rotated her hips so they pressed harder into him — the one flaw in this position, he quickly realized. But then when had either ever resigned to simply accepting something from the other, without doing a bit of damage of their own.

Give and take. Give and give. Take til morning and then take again.

What was meant to be a kiss was then a bite, one that spawned a bite of her own — one to her lip to stifle any further reaction as she circled her hips a second time. If only he'd thought to have her remove her heels before this, so that particular part of her person wouldn't be so even with a particular part of his. And she seemed to have read his thoughts as with a third backward grind her expression came alive again, for his lips and teeth had stilled, leaving her far too open an opportunity to leave unprovoked.

"_Regina,_" he said in a warning tone. One she seemed to have little care to listen to when he felt her hips begin to move again just after. Both hands came to roughly grip her hips then, finally stilling the action that was threatening to derail any he had planned. He pressed her forward a little more, the action quick enough to jar the items strewn about the vanity, and his lips descended quickly to the crook of her neck, scraping teeth following shortly behind.

He kept eye contact as long as he was able, until he'd drifted too far to see the mirror himself. But he made sure every time that his lips touched her, his teeth or tongue weren't long behind — and with intermittent grasps of her hips soon she was breathing more laboriously, and leaning more heavily onto her hands.

He assaulted each vertebrae; laid a path of possession — worship down the sensitive skin of her back. Worship for how the curvature fit so well against him, worship for how it held her tall — worship, for how it belonged to him.


	7. 6 proelium vulnus

Prompt: A kiss on; old scars (#6/25)  
Setting: None specified

The only blemish he ever found on her, was a scar near the bow of her lip. A blemish that was anything but — as he saw a striking vulnerability in it, and pride in the way she left it there despite such an easy means she had to eliminate it.

He'd never taken the time to actually acknowledge the mark, not in words at least. But one night amidst the impassioned kisses, he had stilled. He studied her face, and traced the imperfection with his finger before gently laying his lips there.

He kissed against the long-healed gash — had her parting her lips in question but he simply did the same again, before taking her in a full kiss, never once speaking of why he'd done such a thing.

Years later the scar was still unchanged. Sometimes he would watch as she spoke, watch how its visibility changed as she turned this way or that, and found it to be even more indicative of her beauty than he had before. As only something so beautiful would look even moreso, for having allowed it to stay with her — for having allowed him to see it at all.


	8. 7 A Taste of Revenge

Prompt: A kiss on the; lips (#7/25)  
Setting: Storybrooke, CursedVerse

Of all the places he would have willingly gave his attention — gave with teeth, gave with tongue, gave with whatever he would have seen fit — _kissing her_ was a road he did not wish to travel. Kissing her was really the least of his concern when he had pursued her in this way, pursued so he could fool her, ruin her flawless reputation — the one she kept with herself.

He had nothing with this curse. A big house with no one in it. Money, luxury, none of it meant anything. She ruined him when she left him in Wonderland, and she ruined him again when she brought him here.

A ruined mind had told him to do it, to make her believe he had been cursed all the same. That their connection before must have lingered within them despite his new personality; that it drew them together all over again. When in reality what he felt was nothing. And nothing needed something — what better way to get it?

Trick her, bed her once again — all new circumstance, same old shtick. But this time her pride would take the greatest fall for it. This time she would be the one who was ruined, by the face of reality crashing down all around her. That he'd finally bested her for what she did.

But it all seemed to become a more treacherous game when to fool her it was imperative she think he wanted her explicitly. And how can you express such a want for someone without ever having given them a real kiss?

Those lips were the last thing he wanted any part of. He could fuck her until she screamed, he could do whatever it took to have her writhing, wanting — but kissing her was the real test, the real means of gauging his commitment — how believable he could really be.

It was different the first time, with drunkenness having set in. Now came the real moment, to kiss her, to trick her, to _make her_ want it from him.

It would not be soft, it would not be a caress as it had so often been before, he wouldn't allow it to be. _Couldn't_, allow it to be. He had to make her want him despite being rough. Want him because he was rough. Want him to want her that way. Break down her little facade, her high and mighty shield. Put her on all fours because she _wanted_ to be. Where kissing her would be the lowest priority, right where he _needed_ it.

Harsh lips and a lashing tongue, and a wall to press her firmly against. It had to happen. He knew as much. But it did little to take away the burn he felt for having to touch those lips again.

It was infuriating to feel the all too familiar passion, the clandestine connection they'd made returning straight to form right between their lips. Infuriating the way she accepted his kiss and returned it, made him feel anything at all even after what she did.

Cruelest fate warmed her tongue as it moved over his, made a hand grip tightly at her hip to keep the memories all at bay, which only made it harder when she sighed, half-winced, and pulled him closer — more deeply into the kiss.

It was a perilous game that needed a victor — a game he needed to win. What better revenge for all she'd done to him? What better revenge than the one stolen, right from her very lips?


	9. 8 Two-Faced

Prompt: A kiss on the; forehead (#8/25)  
Setting: Fairytale Land

She was draped across her dead lover's chest when he entered. He'd been paid to do this, and had no qualms with doing whatever it was that his benefactor might want. But the aftermath that occurred because of it still somehow managed to cause a little twinge of guilt to bubble in his gut — sending his limbs to going after her even when he had little to offer in the way of comfort or consoling. And yet here he was anyway, in the utmost of uncertainty of how to go about prying her off of the man, bringing her somewhere else so that he could be moved back to his glass resting place.

He started with a simple gesture, just about all he knew to muster in a moment like this — a hand placed comfortingly on her back as he began to speak. "_Your majesty_," he offered quietly, trying to call her away from the man she'd lost. He'd helped her lose a second time.

"_Don't call me that_." Her voice had a bite to it despite how watery it sounded. But when she repeated the same line again it wasn't even half the strength with which she said the first. All but begging him not to say those words.

"_Regina_," he corrected himself, and felt her shudder once as she let out a silent sob. She held on tighter to the man's jacket, obviously realizing why he had come in, and not at all ready to let go yet.

His hand began to make soothing circles on her back as he stepped closer, trying to silently encourage her when he knew it was going to take more than that. If he'd ever loved, if he was even able to, and that person had been taken he knew enough about the emotion to say he would not be ripped away from them without a significant fight. And as the young queen clung to her lost love, refusing to leave him, Jefferson struggled with how to get her to do so.

But it would seem his methods were not to be needed, as he suddenly felt her body become more alert. He watched as her fists unclenched and she stood tall for a moment before abruptly turning and pushing past Jefferson, leaving him in the tent with no idea what had come over her. He followed suit a moment later, and saw her running into the surrounding forest. The doctor he'd been hired to find staring dumbly after her as if he had no idea what to do.

"_You're just going to let her run to who knows where?_" He said as he took to running off after her.

She was fast even in the dark but he made a lot of headway with quick long strides until he got to the forest's edge, and then slowed a bit so as not to trip, trying to keep sight of her. That proved easier said than done, as he lost her quickly and found himself simply pushing forward in hopes he chose the same path she had.

He could hear her somewhere up ahead but not enough to place where she was, not until he heard her trip and hit the ground hard some ten paces different than where he thought she'd been.

Whatever sudden determination she had found was gone, as he followed the sounds of her crying to find her sat awkwardly on the ground, balancing on her hands as her head hung downward. He wasn't good at this. And truthfully he didn't know why he'd pursued her to begin with. It wasn't in his nature to care much about the victims of his crimes. But something about this had been different. He usually wasn't around to see all that was caused by whatever job he was sent to do. And while the young queen had been little more than a nuisance, she had saved them from being crushed to death in her mother's vault, and she had trusted so easily, so much so that for once, Jefferson actually felt responsible for what he'd done.

He approached cautiously as she stayed in the bent and broken position she'd fallen into, finally crouching down beside her and returning his hand to her back. But the minute he touched her, and before he could even speak she reacted, turned and lunged at him, arms encircling his neck, seeking comfort he didn't know how to give. And that he doubted she actually wanted from him. But something was better than nothing he supposed, as he now sat on the ground with her at his side, twisting to hold onto him.

He held her there as she cried, sobs that wracked her small form. And all he could do was wind his arms around her, pulling her up until she sat on his legs; trying to make the position more comfortable, as it was the only thing he could think to do.

She rested her head partly against his chest, face near the crook of his neck, and he felt her hold tighter and tighter as she curled closer in to him. He'd never had someone, least of all a woman seek comfort in him. It was almost daunting to imagine he could ever become a sufficient place of solace for much of anyone. But as Regina stayed as close as possible, with miserable sounds escaping her despite how much it was clear she tried not to let them, he thought for a moment perhaps one day maybe he could be.

Feeling a little more capable than he had been, Jefferson turned his head just enough so that his lips pressed just below her hairline, a kiss meant to be reassuring where he knew there was no assurance he could give. And he felt her breathing change almost immediately, before she was pulling her face entirely away from its spot at his neck.

She stayed close for a moment, eyes swollen from crying, and even in the darkness the moonlight shone on the streaks of her tears. She stared at him for what felt like an eternity, giving no indication to what was going through her head. And Jefferson found himself at a loss for much of anything, simply returning her stare and loosening his grip around her just enough for a space to stay maintained between them. He had no idea what she could be thinking, and he wasn't going to learn, it would seem, for a moment later she was disentangling herself from him without a word, and hurrying to her feet, running back in the direction they'd come from.

Jefferson stayed sat on the cold ground, having no idea what any of that had been about. When he finally stood and returned to the camp that had been set up, that had all been a set-up, with him at the reigns — he found the heart the doctor had tricked her for, and hid it away in his satchel as he'd been instructed to do.

The next day he met with Rumplestiltskin, and turned the whole evening into a conversation piece. He joked about how the queen had cried, how easy it had all been, and both the dark one and the doctor believed of his indifference.

Jefferson was nothing, if not a performer.


	10. 9 An Unexpected Gift

Prompt: A kiss on the; stomach (#9/25)  
Setting: Fairytale Land, MQVerse

With child.

A phrase he never thought he'd actually hear. A phrase he never thought he'd actually want to. But when the large brown eyes he could easily drown in, and did on many occasions, looked to him with apprehension and the faintest twinkle of excitement at the prospect, Jefferson found himself liking the idea, liking it more and more as he let it sink in.

A child would need protecting — safety, stability, all things he suddenly thought himself entirely capable of. But what was even more incredible, was how much he realized he'd wanted this, without even knowing it. Something that signified their union — more than simply stating that they belonged to one another, more than marriage even signified — a child was a bond for life.

It takes two people, two halves from two wholes to come together in such a perfect fashion that a whole new life is born out of it. He would love this child, just as he loved her.

"_Are you going to say anything?_"

He realized his silence did little to assuage her fears. But words seemed to leave him, and he had little desire to chase after them. Why speak when everything could be said in the proud smile that slowly graced his lips. One that made her heart pick up a little bit of speed, seeing his excitement where she believed she'd see dread.

He moved forward quickly, placing a kiss on her lips while his hands held her face. Saying all that he needed to say in the warmth and love he offered her.

And just as quickly as he had stolen her breath with a kiss he pulled back, dropped to his knees and placed his hands on her hips to hold her in place, leaning in close to speak against her still non-existent belly.

"_Hello in there_,"

She let out a little laugh at how ridiculous he was already being. But ridiculous felt as right as anything, after finding out such surprising and surprisingly welcome news.

"_It can't hear you you know_."

"_How can you be sure?_"

"_It's too small._"

He ignored her doubts of their child's means to hear his words. Even if they couldn't perhaps the sentiment would be imbued into them anyway. After all this stunning half that carried its life was flowing with magic, was it foolish to think that somehow that made it special?

"_Your mother doesn't think that you can hear me, but I think you can._" He pulled her forward just a touch, pressing a kiss to her stomach as she resigned to let him have his moment, as it would seem there was no other way to get out of it.

"_I want to be the first to tell you, how lucky you are_," he turned to rest his chin so he could look up at her just so while he spoke, spoke to their baby that now grew inside her.

"_How lucky I am that you are part of me, that she let me have part of her, and that we made you because of it._"

He didn't miss the way she stilled so suddenly, her expression softening almost into disbelief. And despite her reaction, despite how her skin flushed at the way he spoke, he continued.

"_Your mommy_," he hugged her a little closer once again, voice dropping almost to a whisper, "_is powerful — and she is beautiful — more than I can tell you. More than you can imagine. When you meet her, you will understand. And you will wonder how your papa did anything that lead him to deserve her. To deserve that piece that made you._"

With tears just beginning to well in her eyes he pressed one final kiss against her, and finished by whispering too quiet for her to hear.

"_Maybe by then I'll be able to tell you. If I figure it out myself._"

* * *

Author's Note: I just wanted to say thank you so much to those leaving reviews, especially my guest reviewer who always has such nice and encouraging things to say. I doubt myself on a lot of these so seeing that they are enjoyed does a lot for my confidence in finishing another. I was hoping to have all 25 of these done by the year's end but I've been so blocked and not getting inspired by the remaining prompts that sadly it didn't happen. But at least I was able to start the year off on a good note by finishing this one this morning. It's not the greatest but it's gotten me back in the mood at least, and I have another in the works now. Which is actually going to be a bit of a 'sequel' for one of the drabbles already here. Any guesses on which? Thank you again for the kind words and I hope to be more frequent in writing these again. If not I plan on getting other drabble lists together to sort of break things up and be writing more often but not just from one set of prompts. We will see how that goes as I continue on this list. Happy New Year


	11. 10 Like a River Flows

_Sequel to Only Fools Rush In_  
Prompt: A kiss on the; jaw (#10/25)  
Setting: Fairytale Land

She sat on her throne like she were a prisoner all but chained to it. Since he'd departed her presence not a soul had approached her. Not even her King, who had left her without so much as a smile, fluttering off to dance with his daughter and leaving his queen to herself. Leaving his queen to Jefferson.

He stood in a doorway watching the scene, the way she would glance down at her hands, and back up with a forced smile when she thought someone might be coming to greet her. But no one did.

Every so often her gaze would find his, feeling his eyes boring into her for how much the distance and unpleasant company kept him at the other end of the ballroom. It took an immeasurable amount of strength not to cross it and drag her off with him. Although why he didn't, was more to not upset her further than being worried that they would be seen. It was clear that he could snatch her right in front of her king without his even noticing. Jefferson being a thief made it all the more tempting. And yet here he stood, refraining, brushing off offers to dance because his only concern of dancing, was the one done not on the floor of a ballroom, nor on his feet at all.

It was a crude sentiment perhaps, but with the king actually in his castle, any time they could spend was limited at best. It was easier than it should have been, to have a narrowed mind when the opportunity presented itself so readily.

When next she allowed her gaze to find him, he gave her a look that said all he could not say, and turned on a dime to disappear out of sight, off to find his way to her bedroom, knowing she wouldn't be far behind. And had the evening gone any differently she might not have been so willing, so devil may care about following, not bothering to breathe a word of excuse to anyone about why.

She made her way to her room as quickly as possible, but before she'd even reached the door he had come out of the shadows just near it, his lips immediately pressing to hers — an apology for all the things he could never truly apologize for. They weren't his to say, and yet he still felt compelled to do something to make up for it.

For a moment she forgot about where they were, allowed him his kisses and took plenty of her own. He'd hate to admit it but sometimes he thought they were all he could really need from her. A kiss was so much more personal and trusting, allowing another person the opportunity to drain your soul right out through your lips, stealing parts of you you weren't ready to give. And when the lips that met hers were attached to a thief, everything was at risk for being stolen. Most especially, her heart.

"_Jefferson,_"

There she goes again. His name coming out in ways that made it impossible not to strive for another. A more languid and lingering kiss to capture her breath, only giving it back at the promise of another exhale being only for him.

"_I don't want to go back in there._"

As if he had any desire to let her go now that he had her here.

"_Good — I don't want you to either,_"

His lips descent to her jaw exhibited even moreso, that his willingness to let her go was fast becoming nonexistent. If it had ever existed at all.

"_If he calls for me and I'm not there,_"

Her words came out within bated breaths, pulled out one by one as he gingerly traced a path across the outlying architecture of her face, causing her to lift her chin higher in hopes he would continue. Going against her own words. Something that had become entirely typical, in the most gratifying of ways.

"_You can say you fell ill,_"

Another kiss further up, still trailing along the line of her jaw, not daring to continue descending until she agreed to let go with him. Another pressed just in front of her ear, as his words turned to whispers and hands began to roam.

"_You can say — that you fell into the arms of a scoundrel and couldn't help yourself,_"

Falling might not have been the right word, for when he felt her arms winding tighter around him it wasn't a fall at all. It was a head first dive and he only need catch her to save her from her fate.

"_That much is true; you are a scoundrel. I may as well not even have a choice._"

"_Very funny,_" And she must have thought herself so, because a little laugh escaped her despite all his work to make noises of an altogether different variety leave her swelling lips.

"_Fine — then we best make it believable,_" he said as he scooped her up, causing a little yelp to escape her even as her legs wound around him. So much for not helping herself.

* * *

Author's Note: So this is probably going to get a third part at some point. I'm trying to keep the verses fairly broken up so it's a little more interesting between each chapter. Thank you to my guest and HeroineGauddess for reviewing the last chapter. I'm still a little iffy on it but so long as it's enjoyed it was worth doing :) and don't worry, I will have a dark!verse drabble again soon, possibly next but we'll see how my inspiration goes. I really do love that verse too, and even more I love going against the norm of what you'd expect from it so let's hope I can do that again! In the meantime I hope you enjoy this chapter, I really do love writing the babies so much.

And ps, 10 points to anyone who sees the relation between the title of this prompt and the first ^_^


	12. 11 Die Another Day

Prompt: A kiss on the; hips (#11/25)  
Setting: Storybrooke

That curve simply begged for his attention. Black fabric pulled tight across it pulled his gaze even tighter to her. And she knew it.

_You're too easy, Jefferson._

Whether she said it, or if he was merely telling himself, he didn't know. Or care. And why would he when she was so intent on swaying this way and that even in the most mundane of activities. Her walk was like a mating call, calling him to crawl after her and it was too. damn. easy. for him to fall for it. _And she knew it._

These were not the hips of a commoner, not even a noblewoman — no, these were the hips of a Queen. And they deserved to be treated as such. Gripped and grinded back as royalty should be. At least her sort of royalty that is. She'd never fit the typical cast, and he'd never wanted her to. He enjoyed the way she'd learned to use her body — a walk that could kill; a sway so positively murderous that sometimes he was left to wonder if he really made it out alive. But within a grab of curvaceous flesh it was clear that he lived to die again.

The zip on her skirt gives way easily but the material doesn't move an inch. It insists that he peel it off of her if he wants what lies beneath. Fingers dip just into the hem, dragging it down achingly slow. An ache for each of them, when now he knows just what she hopes to get from him.

When the garment puddles at her feet he is on his knees just in front of her. An all too loyal dog. But he just can't seem to help himself. It is a give and a take and he must give if he expects to take all he wants of her. Piece by glistening piece.

She is taller for the heels still left on her feet, leaving him nearly level with the meeting place of her thighs — higher, if he chooses to strain up. And he does. Blue eyes are all but blown out already, his expression one of absolute desire for the woman stood before him.

He sits up as tall as the posture allows him, lips coming into contact with the fleshy spot just below her hipbone. Teeth taking in the strip of fabric there only to let go just as quickly, snapping it back against her so he can then soothe the sting.

An impatient hand threads in to his hair, pulling him closer until he gathers her closer still, nearly robbing her of her balance as he presses another kiss a little higher. Yes that curve had called for his touch, called him to clamor for it, to work for such a common feature that somehow on her, was not common to him in the least. Much like every other regal bend and bow that she possessed.

And she knew it.


	13. 12 Tooth and Nail

Prompt: A kiss on the; thighs (#12/25)  
Setting: Fairytale Land, DarkVerse

He hadn't ever thought she would agree to something like this. He hadn't ever thought he would want her to. But a man with a monster inhabiting his skin could want many things the man had not. And so in a clear display of how easily he could fall dormant as the monster pulled tight on the reigns — the reigns were really a silken scarf then, knotted tight around two innocent wrists.

_Do you trust me_

He asked it not as if she were something to protect. He asked it as if he had no desire to protect her. Not in the least from himself. And the man inside may have screamed that she say no, but inside is where he stayed, powerless to halt a thing.

He wouldn't hurt her. Not in any lasting physical sense. When he first had he was broken up by it. The man still held on tightly to his want of caring for her, as the monster simply held on too tight. He'd healed her and spoke his amends, but that was the start of everything really. An excused injury, many of them, did little but say he could inflict more, she would accept if he did, all because of his love for her.

The man and the monster slowly had less and less in common. But his love never truly strayed. It simply grew darker, more twisted, less pure, but still just as powerful in its hold. He wanted more out of her. He wanted to see her possess power — he wanted her in black, clawing and biting, him in the night and her kingdom during the day. Claw out the hearts of as many as it takes; bite and bare teeth, make them cower on their knees. And then return to him, wired for the flood of endorphins, take it out on his waiting and wanton skin.

But she did not bite and she did not claw. She did not share his growing appetite for causing pain. And so with wrists bound he would work her up until she would claw — claw for release and get a taste for this sort of power, leaving him marked for her efforts and one step closer to embracing all he saw fit for her future.

_Of course I trust you_

And she should. Trust that his love would corrupt her red and thrumming heart, turn it black and pulsating, heavy beats like bloody hooves.

One swift rip and her dress split wide open — no slow undress, no care for unfastening. Two hasty hands already set themselves to groping. Running up over the line of her hip to take a handful of her breast as his lips made first contact just below her navel. No sweet or loving kisses, just a wicked smile on his lips.

Were the man here he would kiss hers before anything else. Enjoy the pattern they created within a sweep of tongue, enjoy the way her lips would swell from how thoroughly he he kissed her, before putting his to any other use.

But now with little preamble he was already kissing and nipping at her parted thighs, traipsing upward and back down — listening to and watching the way her chest rose and fell with quickening breaths the closer he got, and moving away until it returned more to even before traipsing yet again.

_Jefferson_

She would whimper. But it wasn't enough. He wanted writhing, desperate actions, anything to bring him closer, to push her over as the nearness was nothing but maddening. He wanted her clawing by the time he set her hands free. Once he did he would ravage her — devour her until Rumple himself could hear her impleasured screams. Until she shredded the bed sheets and left him with reddening skin — an imprint of every bicuspid adorning his shoulder. Awaken dark queen, your king is eager to meet you.


	14. 13 A Welcome Distraction

Prompt: A kiss; behind the ear (#13/25)  
Prompt: Jeffy gives Regina a back rub  
Setting: Storybrooke

She was stressed — she always was for one reason or another. And while usually he would have taken to helping her release some of that stress in a far more mutually enjoyable fashion, as she sat at her dining room table pouring over documents that in reality were not her job to be pouring over any longer, a different sort of approach rose to his mind on how he could be a distraction from it.

He came to stand just behind her, hovering a bit to look at what all she had laid out before her, none of it appearing to be half as interesting or important as her posture implied it to be. Two hands came to rest just on either side of her neck, rubbing ever so gently as if to test the waters of what she was willing to tolerate from him.

"_I'm busy._"

That was all she had to offer him. Her tone not all that welcoming to this touch of his but he ignored it, and dug his fingers in just a bit harder to stimulate her nerves, knowing that if she let him long enough the sensation would begin to do his work for him.

"_Jefferson — stop it…_"

Said her words, the command halfhearted as his thumbs were already tending to a kink at the base of her neck.

"_I have things to do._"

She spoke again, even less commanding than before, her hands stilling and coming to rest on the table, giving in despite her words' insistence that she didn't want or need to.

"_Stop resisting,_"

He said without any attempt at sounding like she was to obey him. It was a request, a request to trust him and let him relieve some of the tension built up within her. A request to let him do so without just ripping her clothes off.

His fingers danced along the sides of her neck, tracing across the bottom of her hairline before descending down and going their separate ways — each hand curling over a shoulder, fingers and thumbs kneading the tight muscles just beneath the surface.

He could feel the way each simultaneous motion set her to relaxing a bit more, shoulders gradually slumping as her heartbeat slowed beneath his fingertips, coming down from its usual rapid-fire thrum. Her skin no longer pulsing for the thunder that rumbled inside.

Why don't we, go upstairs and get comfortable so I can tend to you properly

He leaned down to press a kiss to the side of her neck, speaking the words softly against her until a little hum escaped her lips, then dragging higher to the soft spot just behind her ear, feeling her shudder just faintly as he made contact with it.

"_I __**will**__ carry you if necessary._"

* * *

After plenty of coaxing on his part, and just enough wavering resistance on hers, they ended up in Regina's bedroom. He shed her of her shirt and nothing more — she was the one who let the zip down on her skirt, not wanting the wrinkle it when she laid on the bed. Were he not so determined to prove himself honest and able to do anything else with her, he would have caved then and there.

She knew what she did to him. Liked it, he'd decided, more than she'd admit. And he liked it too. To be cornered by desire instead of the suffocating feelings he usually possessed — it was a good trade. Being run by your want of a person was better than just about any alternative. Even when that want sometimes made any other activity hard to stick with. But he was determined, even as he watched her settle onto the bed, testing him; his commitment.

"_Are you sure this is all you brought me up here for?_"

A hand smoothed against her back in place of an answer, tracing the ridges of muscle and vertebrae as he settled next to her. Large hands encompassed her slight waist, pushing upwards to her shoulder blades as both palms laid flat against her, moving against her skin until they came up over her shoulders once again.

At his insistence she finally rested her head against the bedding, allowing him his touches as her eyes slowly fell closed. He was not good at all that many things, fewer still for her, but one thing that never failed to disappoint was just how talented he was with his hands.

They were much larger than hers. Two could nearly take up the expanse of of her back on their own. Making this process all the more thorough for how much ground he could cover with kneading fingers and pressing thumbs. Down the length of her spine, to the dip in her lower back, the very starting point for the curve that resided below. Sweeping upwards once again his fingers curled over her sides, causing little shudders and shivers to escape her, as he stimulated as many nerve endings as possible, all in order to allow the maximum amount of tension be released, as with every pass across her skin it became harder not to venture further, and release some tension of his own.

In a foolish attempt at doing so without doing too much, he leaned down to press his lips to the very center of her spine, feeling her skin, all of herself come a little more alive for it. He snickered against her, the warm breath exhaled in the process bouncing back off of her as she shifted under his touch, taking up the smallest fistful of sheets to steady herself. But with a second kiss, and a third, following his movements as his hands continued to work over her, the combining sensations were already becoming too much to bear.

"_I should have known this wasn't all you dragged me up here for._"

Her voice came out wanton, muscles just discernibly buzzing despite his attempts at lulling all tightness away.

"_Are you complaining?_"

He spoke against her, a fourth kiss placed between her shoulder blades as he continued trailing up whilst his hands traveled down, zeroing in on her lower spine, then ever so not so subtly moving beneath her.

"_No…_"

She said within a breath and bitten lip, arching herself just enough to allow his hands better room to descend.

* * *

Author's Note: I got a prompt to do a back rub and this is what happened. Since it lent itself to the ear kiss so easily I decided to let them combine instead of trying to find *another* way to get them into that sort of position. I don't like being so redundant. Thank you to all who have reviewed the last few drabbles. HeroineGauddess you were exactly right about the chapter titles! And my Guest, I don't approve reviews they just post themselves so anything not here didn't go through. I hope you enjoyed the last dark!verse post tho :) I fear I might be running out of steam on the remaining kisses now so I might be posting a new set of prompts here soon, it will be the same situation of different verses and whatnot so the only difference will be a new list to go from. We shall see.


	15. 14 Mapping the Stars

Prompt: A kiss on; every birthmark (#14/25)  
Setting: Storybrooke

His lips made contact with the beauty spot near the corner of her mouth. Such a simple little feature, that somehow gave another layer to her beauty. A little dot of skin that refused to stay paler, insisting on darkening to a rich brown, calling attention to her every smirk. A spot to outline a smile, to bring every eye down from hers to catch a glimpse of it.

And if you were someone so privileged as the Hatter, you might find other spots coloring her skin, bringing your eyes to all sorts of other places, and in his case — lips, as well.

A well-placed freckle at the side of her neck, as if he needed anymore reason to want to bury himself there. He didn't. But it was happily added to the innumerable amount of excuses he could pull from should he ever need to. The contented sighs that left her all but ensured he never would, but it was good to have a list just in case.

Another spot just at the side of her breast, places that needed even less excuses for why he might want to lavish them with his affections. He followed the trail to every dot by memory, or perhaps something even greater, pulling him along one by one to lay a kiss or twelve to each bit of skin.

A spot on the inside of her thigh, as if it knew just who would be placing themself there, as if she knew and had willed the little mark into existence for the sheer purpose of assuring his attention to it, to all else of her that laid so near. But for now he was on a mission, to trace across every mark on her, interconnecting pathways of ghosting lips, leaving trails only their eyes could see.

Two freckles laid together just behind her left hip, and the teeth that dragged across her flesh might make one think they were a snakebite — left by him — the thieving snake, slinking into her bed when they were young and taking all he could have of her. As if the bite and kiss he now left were from the memory of having left it in the first place. But alas, the mark was not his invention. Pity though, that none of his had the opportunity to stay.

Following the lines of muscle to cross her lower back, he diverted his plan for a fraction, kissed each dimple because they demanded it, the impressions in her skin that his thumbs longed to deepen when he took her from behind. A pleasant piece of memory, that had a hot breath and a soft laugh exhaling against her. Her legs drew up, bending at the knee, the back of her calves brushing against his shoulder blade as she laid happily accepting his kisses, having no idea why he chose this path — he suspected — as she had no way of seeing everything he laid attention to. And there was no reason to tell her — motive means nothing, and his lips had better things to do than speak.

He left her lower back, kissed up the crevice at the side of her spine, diverting once to a little speck near the middle of her back, almost invisible to the eye, if the eye belonged to anyone but him. Back to the center until he reached near her shoulder, a spot shaped almost like a heart, that he laid a rather soft, chaste kiss to.

Her eyes opened at the gentleness of the gesture, finding his. Her lips wore the faintest genuine smile before she turned over, pulling him down to her waiting lips. And while there was no spot to be found on the pillowy skin, nor on her tongue, it seemed a crime against them both not to give them his every attention, until his lungs cried for breath and even still he kissed a bit longer, for if he should die he was sure her kiss would revive him.

A deep inhale when they parted made it unnecessary, but the thought was still there. And with every spot having been kissed, he returned to the one beside her lips, as if to finish connecting the constellation that was Regina. The brightest one in the sky. So bright, that it had to fall and be caught by her skin, leaving darkened little shapes in its wake, all but begging that someone map them once again.

* * *

A/N: After a few one-off drabbles I finally got inspired for another of these, yay! I've been stressed and pretty sad lately so it's nice to write more loving things. That said I still do plan on doing a 3rd part to the FTL drabbles to ~finish out~ that evening. I love writing the babies more than I can say, partly because even as flawed as they are, how 'wrong' it is that they are anything to begin with, they don't have the overhang of all the hurt they've caused each other seeping in and out, and also I really just love thinking there were moments when Regina was Queen that weren't horrible, that at least for a while Jefferson was there and cared and could steal her away even if only to her bedchamber, and give her something no one else cared to. A choice. They just make me so sad and happy at the same time, and I like that now in my mainverse Storybrooke, they're able to be a little kinder to each other again. Anyway. Enough of my rambling. I hope this was enjoyable and I hope I'll be able to post another sooner rather than later. xxo


	16. 15 Surely to the Sea

Sequel to Only Fools Rush In and Like a River Flows  
Prompt: A kiss on the; chest (#15/25)  
Setting: Fairytale Land

They made it into the room without much incident. A lingering moment with her pressed against the door as he dizzied her with a thorough kiss, just before they crashed into the room — thankful for the clamoring party still taking place downstairs. No one was around, nor would they be for the next few hours he suspected, but the audible click of the lock was not lost to his ears, her hand leaving his shoulder for a fleeting moment to ensure their safety.

She was giving in. To his kisses, every promise of more. And he had more than more to give.

A glance to the bed as he carried her, had him already mourning the feeling of her wrapped around him as she was — they would get there in time, but for now he was quite content in their present state.

He brought them to her vanity, sitting her atop it with a noticeable lack of finesse, as he was so focused on still kissing her, touching her, how could he be to blame when a few knickknacks met their fate on the floor.

Her dress plumed out in waves of taffeta, that he had no qualms about pushing higher up her legs to stand between them. He shed his dress jacket, tossing it toward the bed, caring little when the metal rivets were heard hitting the floor. This was a much better alternative to the goings on below them, he thought. If he'd been made to watch her a minute longer, with no right to even offer her a dance, he may have gone mad. But here, now, he could offer her another sort of dance — musicless, but for the sounds they both emitted. But he would much rather dance to her symphony of sighs, watch as her stunning architecture moved this way and that, chest rising and falling, bitten lips and heavy eyes. She was a sight to be seen. And he relished in every piece of her he was let to see. Ravished her for allowing it, which seemed to ensure he'd be allowed once again.

Within the endless collection of kisses they were engaging in, his shirt buttons fell open one by one. But it wasn't the sensation of hands that he felt moving down his torso to undo another. Her fingers were in the midst of a little spell, despite her hands still being linked behind his head.

"_That — is cheating,_"

He spoke against her, pulling her to the edge of the vanity table roughly enough to bring a soft gasp from her smirking lips.

"_Not cheating,_"

She breathed back, one hand slinking down his now exposed chest and torso, winding around to grip his back, pulling him closer.

"_Just a parlor trick really,_"

She smirked again, lips curling up and life in her eyes, such a pleasant change from the earlier part of the evening. But those smirking lips were setting a fire in him, one that threatened to burn him out before he had a chance to consume her as well.

He pulled the puffed sleeves of her dress down her arms, just enough to expose her upper chest. Lavishing her with a few kisses there, to which she arched and angled herself for more. And it was then he decided to throw a little kink in the system, a subtle roadblock unless she were to accommodate him without question.

"_Why don't — you put that trick of yours to better use…_" He spoke lowly against her, hands feebly gripping at her through too many layers of fabric. He pulled the top of the dress down a little farther, as far as it could go before her corset came into view, holding too many parts of her behind its ribbed frame. "_This needs to go._"

Her eyes found his again, challenging — weighing whether or not to make him work for it a little longer. But after another kiss to the top of her breast, one that left the faintest mark, he could see the change in her eyes, going from fiery determination to keep her resolve in tact, to dilating pupils and parted lips, her breathing going a little more ragged as his teeth did their part in making the mark a little more visible — the sensation sending a shockwave down her spine.

Within a wave of her hand violet smoke engulfed her figure, dissipating to reveal that the dress and more had in fact left with it, leaving her in stockings and little else. Both hands came to splay on her now bare back, pulling her a little closer, and encouraging she push even farther into the posture, until her head dropped back and her breasts pushed up, waiting for his attention.

From this angle he could see her expressions reflected in the mirror, wrong side up but still giving him a view of what his every touch was doing. How when fingers slid up her spine as lips descended to the swell of her breast, she took her bottom lip between her teeth, bit down harder when he trailed closer to the center, released completely to let out a humming sigh when he took her in a full kiss, allowing his tongue to take a turn as well.

He unwound an arm from around her, so a hand could grip at her ribs before traipsing up, laying attention to her other breast as he was quite content not to move from his position. He watched as her eyebrows would crease and relax, as she set her jaw only to release it for a breathy exhale when his thumb flicked across her.

She was a vision. A vision for only him to see. As if he'd been (un)rightfully imbued with some sort of second sight, that only showed itself when she was near. That had him wanting to be nearer more often, if only to catch longer glimpses, to use this power for all it was worth. It did nothing for him when they weren't alone, and while that fact had been a thought before, seeing it in action had been dreadful — watching as others couldn't have cared to see her, and yet stayed in her presence to mock her very name.

She was a Queen. Her name announced it before it had even been true. She was destined for a crown, whether she wanted it or not. And while at first, it was admittedly the crown and her slight and pleasing frame that had drawn him in so close, now it was so much more that kept him there, so much of what laid inside her, found within tired whisperings before he departed into the night. They had him risking himself to be here, to meet her in front of her King as if he'd not seen and touched more parts of her than the man himself could say. As if he had a single fleck of guilt that he had, would be again within an hour, as their current state proved.

Every still-gentle writhe he brought out of her now, made the risk mean next to nothing. How could it, when his lips were trailing up her center line, bringing her to sit back up and tangle around him — ivy branching out in the sun, a vision — to return his kiss to her lips and gather her up, moving them to her bed — determined, to give her the royal treatment she deserved.

* * *

A/N: A fourth part seems kind of inevitable, we shall see.


End file.
